Third Wheel
by Ally5
Summary: Helen deals with her lack of love life but gets tied up in something else completely


Title: Third Wheel, part 1  
  
Author's note: As much as I love writing about Bobby and Lindsay, this fan fiction is about Helen and her fight for justice and in the process, finding love. As always, I love feedback and in this case I am especially interested in what you think – because if you hate it then I'll go back to writing about your favourites.  
  
Disclaimer: These characters belong to David E. Kelley and ABC. As much as I would love to have created them – I can't take the credit  
  
*********************************  
  
I can't believe it. They are finally married – and now I feel even more like a third wheel. Lindsay promised me when she moved out that I wouldn't lose her, but every day of their engagement I felt her becoming more and more distant. I always knew that she was in love with Bobby, it was written all over her face when we were dating, and I knew that Bobby and me would never make it as a couple; it was part of the reason we broke up. The other part was Lindsay; I couldn't bear to make her unhappy. So now how did I pay for it? I have to watch them happy for eternity. Life sucks. I decided right then and there to focus on my own life for a change. No more looking out for Lindsay, its time to take care of numero uno.  
  
So here I am, sitting in a restaurant by myself on a Monday during my lunch hour, waiting for some guy that a friend of a friend of a friend recommended. I think that's him over there. Hmmm, not bad: tall, nice body, face could be better, ring on finger on his left hand – not him - too bad. What about-.  
  
"Helen?" A deep husky voice asked from behind me.  
  
Anxious for a look at my date, I spun around and saw...a nerd. Okay, that's a little harsh. But look at him, no wonder he relies on friends to get him dates - his glasses are so thick, they could have been used as porthole windows on the Titanic.  
  
I should respond, "Yes. It's Thomas isn't it?"  
  
"Call me Tom. It's nice to finally meet you."  
  
"Yes." I looked around for an escape, but saw no route to the door that wouldn't be perceived is rude. He took his seat and glanced at me encouragingly. I was stuck.  
  
"So, Tom, what do you do for a living?"  
  
"I'm a software engineer."  
  
"Oh?" How boring, he is a nerd.  
  
"I used to work for a company over in San Francisco, but I was head hunted and so here I am."  
  
"Better pay over here?"  
  
"Well...yeah. But I've lost out in prestige. The bay area is much more acceptable for a computer nerd."  
  
What could I say to that? He's admitted he's a computer nerd, but he probably earns more than I could ever hope to earn, I decided to give him a chance.  
  
"So what do you do?" he asked me.  
  
"I'm a District Attorney."  
  
"I'm impressed! I don't see you as the type to fight for justice."  
  
"Yes, well I'm a bundle of surprises." I looked around, nope, still no escape routes. The pause was almost excruciating. I could see him searching desperately for a topic of interest, so I decided to relieve him of his pain.  
  
"So, Tom, how do you like the weather here in the east?" Oh great, I couldn't have chosen a more boring topic if I had tried.  
  
"Actually I love it. I'm originally from Connecticut, so it's nice to be back on the east coast again. It brings back childhood memories."  
  
"You had a happy childhood?"  
  
"It was great. Didn't you?"  
  
Uh oh, he's serious, we're already discussing our life stories.  
  
"It was as happy as could be expected."  
  
"That's an interesting response. Can we psychoanalyse that one?"  
  
"No, I don't want to scare you away."  
  
"I don't scare that easily."  
  
"Well, if that's the case – I'll let you in on it."  
  
"I'm all ears."  
  
"Well, my parents divorced when I was young and I spent every year travelling between them. I had summer friends and school friends, but I could never spend summer with my school friends or vice versa. Both my parents remarried and started new families; I kind of became the extra that didn't quite fit in with either family. I can't believe that I'm telling you this."  
  
"People have always told me things. I can't help it - people instil trust in me. Besides I enjoy listening to you."  
  
"Shall I keep talking?"  
  
"If you want to. Or I could tell you about my childhood?"  
  
"Okay, go ahead."  
  
"Are you going to be cross examining me?"  
  
"Only if I think you're lying."  
  
"I'd better tell the truth then. Okay. I have 4 brothers and 3 sisters. I'm the youngest. I grew up in the midst of what can only be perceived as organised chaos. My mother was "all conquering", my father was aloof but we could tell that he loved us. My parents were always struggling for money, but they took us camping, and I can tell you that it was better than Disneyland – although we didn't think so at the time." He smiled wryly. It was the smile that shook me; I hadn't expected it to be so disarming. He looked at his hands, blushing slightly. "I love it that I earn a good salary now and that I can support them and give them back a little of what they gave me."  
  
"It must be satisfying to be so close to them again." I struggled to find composure, not expecting to be so moved by his honesty.  
  
"It is. Do you see your parents anymore?"  
  
"I kind of lost contact with them when I went to college. I met my best friend there and found that she could support me emotionally better than they ever could." I suddenly felt ashamed – when was the last time that I called them?  
  
"And now?"  
  
"My best friend just got married. Suddenly I find myself all alone..."  
  
"Hence the need for blind dates?"  
  
"Something like that." He *was* charming and there was that smile again - how did a nerd get a smile like that?  
  
"But that doesn't explain why *you* would go on a blind date." I decided to put the spotlight on him for a moment.  
  
"Uhhh. Do I have to answer?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well...I suddenly found myself in this new city, my new colleagues are all married or in serious relationships – it makes it hard to make friends when they're all in relationships and I'm single."  
  
"Oh, so you came on this date so that you could become chummy with your colleagues?"  
  
"No, I didn't say that. But I consider it an added bonus." He smiled widely at me -I was hooked.  
  
* * *  
  
"What was he like?" Lindsay's voice echoed down the phone line. I thanked God for fibre optics.  
  
"Well, he was sweet. I liked him."  
  
"Was he normal?"  
  
"Of course he was. Why do you ask?"  
  
"I know your history." I could almost see her smile.  
  
"Thanks. How's the honeymoon?"  
  
"I don't want to come home."  
  
"Well stay then. Nobody misses you."  
  
"Hey, don't take your hostility out on me."  
  
"I'll see you on Friday."  
  
"Bye."  
  
Ellenor was in the kitchen when I put down the receiver.  
  
"How are they?" she asked.  
  
"Happy."  
  
"I could have guessed that much. Are they coming home, or do I get to be senior partner?" she joked.  
  
"That's what you've always wanted isn't it?"  
  
"Well, I've tried to be subtle but now I see my chance."  
  
"I hope for the sake of your firm that they come back."  
  
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," she offered me a spoonful of the pasta sauce to taste. "I was going to ask you about the Harrison case. Any offers?"  
  
"I have a million files on my desk, remind me which is the Harrison case."  
  
"Break and enter and attempted murder."  
  
"Ask me again tomorrow when I've read the file."  
  
"Is the sauce okay?"  
  
"Fine."  
  
It was late that night when I finally had the chance to think about the day that had just passed. I tried to think about work and about Lindsay or even Richard Bay, but my mind kept wandering to that smile. It was the first time that a man had been so accepting of me, and that had me worried – I felt the urgent need to push him from my mind and focus on work. The Harrison case – who the hell was Mr. Harrison?  
  
* * *  
  
Tuesday, I looked in my diary over my morning coffee and saw that the day was fairly empty. I'm not sure whether Scott the DA is assigning me as many cases as usual or whether it is just a slow season for crime. Probably the former, I don't seem to be winning much lately and not for lack of trying. I have two arraignments early and then nothing but paper work and arguments to prepare for the rest of the day. I hurriedly looked over Harrison's file before going to court – no wonder Ellenor wanted a deal – Jerry Harrison had already committed assault four times and was just out of prison for a series of robberies. No deal, I decided. I want to win one for a change.  
  
The arraignments were a waste of time for all concerned. Two more very guilty men ready to fill up our already overcrowded jails. One is set to go to trial, the other accepted a deal, which will make my boss very happy. I perused the Harrison file once more, trying to figure out what Ellenor's approach would be if this went to trial - with most defense attorney's I can figure out what their strategy may be, but the lawyers of Donnell, Young, Dole and Frutt continually proved me inept at reading minds. They always found a bizarre defense that resulted in juries finding good in the most immoral of criminals. That one firm had been the cause of more heartache than any other person I have ever dealt with – it's a pity that I am friends with most of them, I thought ruefully. I was interrupted by a voice at the door.  
  
"Helen, I was going to ask for some help on one of my cases, can you spare a moment?"  
  
Richard Bay appeared before me, as if materialising from thin air.  
  
"For you Richard, I can spare the whole day." The response obviously didn't come out as sarcastically as I had planned, because his face became hopeful. I was wondering how to repair the damage, when there was a knock at the door. The husky voice warmed my heart, "Helen?"  
  
"Tom! What a surprise!"  
  
Richard heard the flutter in my voice and began to watch the newcomer suspiciously.  
  
"I hope you don't mind my dropping in like this – if you want me to leave, just say the word."  
  
"No, not at all. I don't have much on today." I found myself wishing Richard would leave, but his face stubbornly showed that he had no intention of doing so. I glared at him, but he was too busy staring at Tom to notice.  
  
"Richard, could we discuss this case later?" I asked sweetly. He turned to me and whined childishly, "But Helen, I need your help now!"  
  
"I can come back later..." Tom suggested.  
  
"No, no. Please stay." I turned to look at Richard; "Richard...I'm sure Robin would be more than happy to help."  
  
"Robin's in court all day."  
  
"Well, what about Mark?"  
  
"I guess he'll have to do." He stomped bad-naturedly out of my office in search of another DA. I turned back to Tom, our eyes met and held and the minutes melted away. It was me who looked away first, unable to hold his steady gaze after several minutes. He smiled mischievously when he saw my discomfort; I was beginning to like him more and more.  
  
"What are you doing for lunch today?" He asked me, eyes still sparkling.  
  
"Not much, do you have plans?"  
  
"Only if you're free."  
  
"Absolutely, what do you have planned?"  
  
"I found this great Thai restaurant last night, I was wondering whether you want to join me for lunch today?"  
  
"I'd love to."  
  
"Okay. I'll come by in an hour then."  
  
"Okay." I watched him walk confidently down the hall.  
  
Richard suddenly appeared before me again.  
  
"Who was he?"  
  
"That's none of your business, Richard."  
  
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't we dating?"  
  
"We went out on a date, yes, but that doesn't mean you own me. I can see anyone I like."  
  
"It's nice to know people are loyal." He stormed out of the room for the second time that morning.  
  
"Can I trade in this job for what's behind door number two?" I asked myself aloud.  
  
"No," came the reply from the doorway. Ellenor stepped in and sat down.  
  
I smiled at her, "Why not?"  
  
"If you weren't here, who would I go to when I need favours?"  
  
"Oh no. Harrison?"  
  
"Anything? We're desperate."  
  
"If he's not going to plead guilty to the charges, then we'll have to go to trial. He's guilty, Ellenor."  
  
"He insists that he was set up, but he doesn't want to give up his boss."  
  
"If he gives us a name, then we can discuss his options."  
  
"I'll talk to him. See you later."  
  
Silence descended around me, finally giving me a chance to think. The work around me seemed to crowd out any thoughts and I found myself immersed in it. The phone penetrated my reverie after an hour.  
  
"Helen, I'm sorry, I won't be able to make it for lunch after all."  
  
"Oh...never mind. Maybe another time?"  
  
"I was going to ask you whether you wanted to go out for dinner tomorrow night?"  
  
"I'd love to."  
  
"Great. I'll call you tomorrow."  
  
"Bye."  
  
The phone rang as soon as I replaced the receiver.  
  
"This isn't a job, this is hell with fluorescent lights." I mumbled as I picked up the phone.  
  
"Well you're not the brightest crayon in the box today, are you?"  
  
"Ellenor, what's up?"  
  
"I think you should be asking yourself that."  
  
"I'm too busy."  
  
"Well, Jerry Harrison gave me a name."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Someone called McArthur. Tommie McArthur...Helen, are you there?"  
  
I dropped the phone in stunned silence. I could hear Ellenor's voice on the other end of the dropped receiver, she eventually gave up and the incessant tone droned down the line. My world was like the muffled atmosphere of the deep sea: nothing could pierce the shock that I felt as my attention focussed on the small white card that sat innocently on my desk, Tom McArthur, it proclaimed to the entire world, software engineer. The fog slowly lifted and I found enough clarity to call Mike to inform him of Ellenor's call.  
  
"OK, I'll put someone on it." He assured me tiredly. This surprised me, "Aren't you going to do it?"  
  
"No, I'm swamped with work. Later."  
  
"Bye."  
  
I hung up the phone, still reeling from my surprise. How could I have fallen for his façade of charm and innocence? How could I have made myself so vulnerable? I was determined to kick his nerdy little ass. The phone rang, and feeling invincible, I grabbed at it and my hearty "Yes?" resounded down the line. I must have surprised the police officer on the other end, because his tentative, "Ms. Gamble," was barely audible. I lowered my voice and made my demeanour more acceptable for a civilised society and answered his many questions about my connections with Tom. It seemed that the police force in San Francisco was also investigating a series of armed robberies that were linked to him and they were very excited at this development. I was adamant that they inform me of any developments and once again hung up the phone. I felt as though it had been permanently attached to my ear that day and I was impatient to get home and relax in a hot bath with a glass of red wine. I needed to rid myself of the grime of Tom's deceit.  
  
I met Ellenor at the door of our apartment, she as weary as me. I could see the strain of her job on her face and knew it well – I had witnessed the same look on Lindsay when we had lived together. It was the look of both pride and shame; the two feelings competing with each other so that they blended together like a distasteful cocktail.  
  
"I need a bath," Ellenor confessed to me tiredly as we entered the now dark apartment.  
  
"Me too."  
  
"What have you done today that deserves a bath?"  
  
Hmph, if only you knew, I thought silently. But I replied instead, "Don't ask."  
  
"Okay…Hey, I'm glad that the police are investigating this Tommy McArthur guy. It lets my guy off the hook."  
  
"Yeah…Me too."  
  
I sorted through the mail but sensed her looking at me strangely. "Helen are you okay?" she asked, concerned.  
  
"I'm fine," I lied. "It's just been a long day."  
  
She continued to look at me concernedly, but let the issue pass.  
  
Scented candles wafted pleasurable aromas through the bathroom as I lay almost comatose in the bath. Music was playing intimately in the background, so softly that it could only be heard if I was completely silent. I felt in a contemplative mood and thoughtfully analysed my feelings about this "development" as the young police officer had delightfully summarised it. Maybe the guy was lying, it was well known for snitches to lie in order to get their own sentence reduced, but how had he known Tom's name? And the Californians had been certain that he was involved in a big robbery ring over there. So it seemed plain and simple that I had been deceived by Tom. I could suddenly see his surprised expression when I had told him that I was a DA. I had accepted it as innocent surprise but now it was obviously astonishment at his luck in dating a DA. He hadn't realised the consequences of crossing me and I was going to let him know that I wasn't happy. I had arranged with the police officer to go on the date with Tom and string him along, making sure that he didn't disappear into the darkness. He also implored me to act naturally and to inquire subtly into Tom's past - I felt sick at the thought of pretending to still be infatuated with him.  
  
* * *  
  
Wednesday. My diary showed a promising array of cases. I was in court for a PC hearing that I was sure to win, although my confidence in my indestructibility had recently been dented. The morning was spent working on the evidence that I was to present at the hearing. I talked to all the witnesses and prepped them on what I was going to ask them and what they could expect to be asked by the defence attorney. They were eager to do their part for society and I smiled cynically when they left my office; I had once been as passionate about serving the community but had long since realised that it was a futile battle. The case was a manslaughter case that was low down on the media's list, so the DA had decided to trust me with it just this once. The PC hearing went as planned and the case was bound over for trial.  
  
"Will you take involuntary?" The defense lawyer asked me as we left the courtroom.  
  
"Nope. Sorry."  
  
"Come on, Helen. It will save the tax payer some money and save you some time."  
  
"My calendar has been kind of empty lately, I'm jumping at the chance to win one - and I will win it." I told him confidently. He simply grimaced in response and walked away to join his client who had been standing nearby. And as I ambled back to my office, I repeated to myself, "I will win this." There was a woman waiting by the door when I eventually arrived and she straightened up suddenly when I approached as if she had a string above her head pulling her up. She followed me in and sat down, unasked.  
  
"I'm Helen Gamble, what can I do for you?" I asked as politely as I could manage.  
  
"I'm Teresa Williamson. I'm here about the animal abuse case that you're prosecuting."  
  
"Oh? Do you know the defendant?"  
  
She bristled and said coldly, "No, I'm here on behalf of the animals."  
  
'Oops!' I thought to myself – I really put my foot in it! "I'm sorry. Did you know the animals?"  
  
"No. I'm here on behalf of the welfare of ALL animals."  
  
"I see…Ms. Williamson?" She nodded. "Perhaps you could remind me what exactly this case entails? I have a lot of cases on my desk and don't recall this one."  
  
"The defendant is a seafood restaurant owner and serves a dish called flaming shrimp. Where the live shrimp are doused in alcohol and lit with a flame. Their shells are then peeled off while they are still alive and they are consumed raw. The poor animals are known to scream during this process and attempt to crawl off the plate, and hence have earned the label, 'screaming prawns' by animal activists such as myself. It is an atrocity and something should be done about it."  
  
"I still don't recall the case. What exactly are the charges?"  
  
"He was accused of manslaughter – you just argued that case today."  
  
"That was just a probable cause hearing. The trial isn't until next month. And anyway, I can't accuse him of animal abuse, it is legal for him to serve live seafood and it has no bearing on the matter before us. I'm sorry, but I have work to do."  
  
"Ms. Gamble, it has everything to do with who this man is. If he can serve up a live animal and profit from it's suffering, then it follows that he could probably do the same thing to a human."  
  
"I am sorry, Ms. Williamson, but there is nothing I can do about it." I hated to look her in the eye – had I always been so cold towards these animal welfare issues? She stood and stomped towards the door. I hadn't been making people very happy today!  
  
"Have you had lobster, Ms. Gamble?" She asked before leaving.  
  
"Yes I have."  
  
"Did you know that they are placed in a boiling pot while still alive and often their screams can be heard by patrons of the restaurant, who are, predictably, sickened by the noise?"  
  
"No I didn't know that," I replied wishing that she would leave – wanting to remain ignorant about the killing methods of some of my favourite foods.  
  
"Do you eat beef? Did you know that feedlot cattle are kept in pens so small that they remain hunched so that certain muscles will develop and in most abattoirs they are sent down a narrow run to a dead end, where they activate a spiked lever which penetrates their brain. After which, they are dragged out and their throats are slashed?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Ms. Wiliamson-."  
  
"You seem to be apologising a lot, Ms. Gamble. A person who eats another animal should be told what they are eating. I'm sorry to take up your time." She left swiftly and I was left in a thoughtful silence to ponder what she had told me. Perhaps I could do something about this manslaughter trial, I thought to myself, realising that she had succeeded at what she had aimed to do. The phone broke my reverie and I answered it timidly: for some reason imagining the caller to be the animal activist again, ready to tell me another fact about what I was eating. When I heard the voice on the other end, I wished that it had been the animal activist.  
  
"Helen?" The husky voice asked.  
  
"Tom," my voice sounded strangled and breathless. I had tried all day to keep him out of my head, and hadn't prepared myself for his promised call.  
  
"How are you?"  
  
"Fine. And you?"  
  
"I'm great. Are we still on for dinner tonight?"  
  
"Of course. Where and when?" I felt the need to get off the phone and regroup for a moment, so I tried to hurry the conversation along.  
  
"It's a surprise. Can I pick you up at eight?"  
  
"I have a lot of work to do. Can you pick me up from my office?" I wanted to keep my home address from his thieving hands.  
  
"Sure. I'll see you at eight."  
  
"Okay."  
  
He took me to a small, popular restaurant that was famous in the area for its diverse cuisine. All tastes were catered for and the restaurant was notorious for its long reservations list. I glanced at Tom who was grinning smugly; I could see that he was dying for me to ask how he had achieved the impossible and secured a reservation. I found myself enjoying his boyish nature and put him at ease, "Okay, how did you do it?"  
  
His smile broadened, "I was dying for you to ask!"  
  
"I know."  
  
"One of my colleagues owns half of this restaurant and he's been bugging me to try it out for ages. I couldn't think of anyone I'd rather share the experience with." I blushed forgetting the reason I was on a date with him, and began to enjoy myself.  
  
"I'm honoured," I joked.  
  
"You should be and because of your commendable attitude, I will be treating you to the most expensive wine on the menu, perhaps a cabernet shiraz from Australia? Or would you rather a chardonnay?"  
  
"Are you trying to impress me with the extent of your knowledge?"  
  
"My father was a professional alcoholic. That is, he ran a liquor store and decided that he needed to know what he was selling. He endeavoured to try out every type of alcohol available, and as a result I acquired a taste for wine," he shrugged his shoulders and waved the waiter over.  
  
"The 1993 Ebenezer Shiraz please." I watched his easy confidence at taking over the ordering. He may not have grown up attending wealthy schools and eating at fancy restaurants, but he had the easy self-assurance of one who had. I tried to remind myself that he was a thief, but I continued to get lost in his charm.  
  
"A good choice, sir. Can I get you anything else?"  
  
"No, that's all for now, thanks." He finally turned to me, "I'm sorry I ordered without your input. Do you mind?" He continued without waiting for me to answer. "You seem like the type who would mind, but I thought it was probably time you stopped trying to hold yourself up all the time. I get the impression that you don't succumb to the pressures of life very often."  
  
I wasn't sure how to respond to this – he was right of course. I found it hard to allow others to take control, I continually found myself in relationships where I either took over completely, or I resented the man for not allowing me to take over completely. I could see Tom waiting for my response, but when it didn't come, he smiled easily and leaned towards me, "I also get the impression that you are not often at a loss for words. Could this be a world first?"  
  
I noticed the waiter approaching with our wine. "Tom, I think you should drink your wine and keep your opinions to yourself," I replied somewhat harshly. He was mildly taken aback at this and waited for the waiter to uncork the bottle and pour him a taste of the wine. He nodded his approval and the waiter poured each of us a glass. When the waiter left, he smiled again, this time the smile was more strained.  
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so presumptuous, I was just joking around. Why don't you do a quick personality test on me and I'll tell you how close you are?"  
  
I paused thoughtfully and stared him in the eyes. He held my gaze and I began slowly, "You are ashamed of your family's social status and do everything in your power to make up for it, going so far as to put on a façade that hints at private schools and wealthy parents. You are also hiding something else from me – perhaps there was something that happened in California that you don't want to tell me, and this is the reason you came to Boston." The muscles in his face tightened when I said this and it became sculptured, as if in marble, with a tortured expression. I decided not to ruin the police's investigation completely and said more brightly, "But you are also a happy person who enjoys life and are flexible enough to use whatever life confronts you with. There, how did I do?"  
  
He looked uncomfortable, "You did fine, but not completely correct. In fact I thought you were a little harsh about it all. Is something wrong?"  
  
"Not at all. I'm just tired – it's been a long and frustrating day."  
  
"Frustrating?"  
  
"I had a visit by an animal activist and frankly, I don't ever want to eat meat again!"  
  
"What did he say?"  
  
"She." I corrected. "You don't want to know what she said, but she was determined to get her point across."  
  
"And she succeeded."  
  
"Unfortunately, yes. But I won't bore you with the details. How was your day?"  
  
"It was a little frustrating as well. I work in a team of extremely opinionated and intelligent people and we all seem to have different ideas as to where this project is headed. We were interrogated by the boss today and he ordered us to make up or break up - that means I'm fired, since I'm the newest member of the group."  
  
"I'm sorry. Does that mean you'll be leaving our sunny shores and heading back to California?"  
  
"No, hopefully I've left California for good – it's a part of my life that I have no interest in reliving. I'll try to sort this out, and if we can't I'll find another job on the east coast…somewhere."  
  
I felt my primeval DA urges arise and decided it was time for some gentle prodding. I tried to make my voice as gentle as possible (which wasn't very gentle), and asked, "What happened in California?"  
  
"I would rather not talk about it."  
  
"You'll feel better if you do. And everyone knows there's no better listener to a sorry tale than a woman." That was complete crap and if he believed that, he was completely stupid. I hated how people said talking about something would make you feel better, it usually made the listener secretly feel better as they rejoiced that their life was better than yours.  
  
"You're just making that up," he teased.  
  
"I know. But I'd like to help." That was crap too; I wanted to kick his ass. Or did I? I began to question my real feelings again.  
  
"I had a girlfriend in San Francisco. In fact, she was my fiancé. I was working really hard, it was so hard to make it in that city – because it is filled with thousands of people just as intelligent and creative and with even better credentials. Every day was competitive. If you didn't make the company a fortune in the first month, you felt a failure and were paraded in front of the head of the company, having to answer their accusations apologetically, like, 'I'll try better next month, maybe then I'll have the creative juices flowing and I'll think of something nobody has ever thought of before and it will be so economically viable that it will cause a revolution.' The tension between colleagues was the worst and I swear, half of us were suicidal. Anyway, I came home one night, absolutely exhausted, and found my fiancé in bed with my best friend. I couldn't bear it and the next day I got the call from the head-hunter, so I left."  
  
I wasn't sure whether I should believe this story. It was nicely spun but seemed too perfect, too predictable. Hell, I shouldn't even be questioning its truth; he was a thief. But with all my experience in cross-examining, I had a feeling that this was actually the truth. My head whirred with confusion; I needed somebody – Lindsay – to point me in the right direction again. I was completely lost without her. Tom continued to look at his hands as if he were embarrassed at revealing his failures to me and was luckily not expecting me to reply. He finally looked up with a tear in his eye and I felt my heart go out to him.  
  
* * *  
  
Thursday. I woke with a splitting headache, remembering ruefully the copious amounts of wine that I had consumed, I had vague recollections of being carried up to my apartment and…I rolled over frantically…yep…just what I thought.  
  
"Hey sleepyhead," I heard him say as I flopped ashamedly back onto the pillow. I rolled over onto my side and leaned my head over the side of the bed – feeling the blood rush to my brain and the pounding that resulted. I drew back up and waited for the pounding to subside. Tom got up off the floor and threw the pillow and blanket he had used at my feet on the bed. He looked awful and rubbing my eyes I briefly wondered whether my appearance was the same. I found minutes later that my appearance surpassed his easily: I could win gold at the hangover Olympics. Groaning, my watch told me that I should have been at work half and hour ago and I made a frenzied dash to get ready – resulting in an even worse headache. Tom, meanwhile, watched me, amused. He was leisurely sipping coffee and it wasn't until I was almost out the door that I realised that I couldn't just leave him there. A number of other things niggled at my consciousness but I couldn't find my way through the haze that blocked my neurons to figure out what they were.  
  
"I can't leave you here."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
I wanted to say, 'Because you're a wanted criminal,' but decided it wasn't a good idea. "I hardly know you Tom. I couldn't leave you here."  
  
"I can let myself out. Don't worry Helen, I won't burn the place down. I just want another cup of coffee and perhaps a shower before I go."  
  
"I'm sorry, but I can't." I indicated to the door and he got up grumpily. "Don't you trust me?"  
  
'No,' I screamed silently; but said instead, "I don't know, Tom. I don't know you well enough to make that decision."  
  
"Well its nice to know I made a good impression." He huffed out the door and wordlessly made for the elevator. I slammed the door behind me and he jumped visibly at the sound. I felt the laughter rising up from my belly and couldn't suppress it, resulting in a horse-like snort. He heard that too and turned back with a grin covering his face.  
  
"What have you got lined up for today?" He asked good naturedly.  
  
"I'm not a firing squad, Tom." I teased.  
  
"You fooled me. I was there last night when you told the waiter off for serving lobster."  
  
I felt my face go hot and wondered what else I had said. I again felt a niggling in the back of my mind, but ignored it.  
  
"What else did I say?" I asked desperately.  
  
He smiled at my embarrassment and simply said, "You don't want to know."  
  
"Actually, I do."  
  
"Look. I had as much to drink as you did, I don't recall all of what happened last night either."  
  
"But you obviously remember more than I did!"  
  
"I'm sure you didn't make a complete fool of yourself."  
  
I simply groaned in response and we left the building, heading to our cars.  
  
"I'll call you!" He yelled across the street.  
  
I nodded in response and watched him go.  
  
I got to my office half an hour later. There was a crowd of people gathered around my door and some laughter and mumblings coming from the group. I pushed my way through the office and found boxes and boxes piled inside. The people parted and soon dispersed, when my outraged yelp echoed through the corridors. Only Richard remained, silently - with an expression on his face that resembled mine. The boxes were all open and creatures were crawling over the edges, onto the floor. A small white mouse made a kamikaze dash for the open door; I stepped out of his way and watched him disappear into the maze of people. There was also a box containing an enormous lobster, with antennas waving and pincers closing murderously. Without a word to Richard, I closed the door and walked away.  
  
"Helen? Where are you going?"  
  
I ignored his whiny voice and found the coffee machine - sitting beside it heavily. I poured my coffee and sipped quietly, listening to snippets of conversations as the people rushed past, oblivious to my eavesdropping. It seemed that lives were changed irreversibly within these four walls. Families of victims rejoiced or despaired at the justice served by judges and juries, domestic battles were heard and settled and law suits resolved. I heard a man proclaiming his innocence to a disbelieving lawyer, I heard jury members whisperingly discuss the case they had heard so far, their jury badges sticking out like beacons to the passing spectators and I heard the wheeling and dealing that is commonplace in the halls of the courtroom, between lawyers and DA's.  
  
It was after I heard a particularly sad conversation about an elderly woman being robbed and beaten, that I realised with a jolt, what had been bothering me all morning. I could now see myself clearly talking to Tom, after the third bottle of wine, "The police are damn stupid, did you know that?" I remember my slurred voice and his confusion at the abrupt change in topic, as we had just begun discussing past relationships. "Why?" he had asked, dumbfounded.  
  
"Because…they think you're a thief!" I remember the shrill laugh that had erupted from my body - it hadn't sounded like my laugh at all, and that had surprised me, so I didn't see what his reaction had been. I remember the waiter coming then with the manager: asking us to leave the restaurant. Tom had been affable and had hoisted me up in front of all the other couples. He had thrown his credit card at the manager and carried me to his car. My memories became blurry at that point: I wasn't sure how he had gotten me to my apartment. Had I told him the address? Had he found it in my purse? Had I opened the door to my apartment? I was confused and the only person who could clear it up was Tom himself. I saw with interest a little white mouse dart between legs and feet, continually narrowly missing death, when I heard my name.  
  
"Helen!" Mike called from the end of the corridor.  
  
I looked up and saw his head bobbing above the crowd as he made is way towards me.  
  
"Hi," I replied when he was within hearing range.  
  
"I saw your office – you obviously got on someone's bad side!"  
  
"Yeah. I don't want to deal with it so early in the morning. What's up?"  
  
The mouse rushed past me again and I watched him, amazed. Mike also watched it quizzically and seemed to lose his train of thought.  
  
"One of yours?" He asked, unable to forget the mouse.  
  
"Yep, he was an escapee."  
  
"Right…uh…I just heard from Keaton, the officer on the Tom McArthur case. Tom was seen arriving at his apartment this morning. They were worried when he didn't return last night."  
  
I felt a blush creep up my face, wondering what Mike was thinking. He continued on without a look in my direction.  
  
"A unit followed him when he left an hour later and he was followed to the airport, where he is currently being held up by customs - our orders."  
  
I seemed to lose all control over my voice, "Oh?" I replied shrilly.  
  
Mike continued unawares, "We have enough information to bring him in and lay charges. I thought you should know."  
  
"Oh…Thanks, Mike. Can you call me when you get him into custody?"  
  
"Sure," he lifted his hand in a sketchy wave.  
  
Ignoring all the boxes and crawling animals, I sat down at my desk. I saw a note, "Save the animals!" It exclaimed brightly. I crumpled it up and threw it towards the door, narrowly missing another white mouse.  
  
"Helen!" Richard opened the door and stepped inside, slamming it shut again before any more creatures could escape. "I need your help!"  
  
"I'm busy Richard."  
  
"Well, I started trial today and its not going well. Can you second chair me just for today?"  
  
"I don't know anything about the case. Can't someone else do it?"  
  
"No. Only you. Please, Helen. All you have to do is sit there and watch."  
  
I looked at the hell around me and at my empty diary in front of me – deciding on impulse that any court case would be more interesting than the bleak day I had planned.  
  
"Okay." I told him, his face melting with thanks. I followed him out and closed the door again. "So we meet again," I mumbled to the white mouse that rushed past my feet.  
  
"What?" Richard asked, looking at me as though I was crazy.  
  
"Nothing. Let's go."  
  
I heard the magical words as we entered the courtroom, "All rise." We rushed to our table and stood respectfully for the judge. Ever since I had begun dreaming of being a lawyer, I had found the pleasure in listening to those words. It signified for me the words of a civilised society where respect for the law and the people who represented it (the judges) was imperative. I had voiced this view to Lindsay when I had first become a DA. She had laughed – already toughened by the duties of a defence attorney, so I kept it to myself now. But, peeking at Richard, I could see that he felt some of the same magic.  
  
The day dragged. Richard finished his prosecution at the end of the day and the judge adjourned until the next day. My phone was ringing accusingly when I entered the office and I saw with horror that the lobster had died and most of the mice were gone. The smell of the lobster seemed to hang in the air and I wrinkled my nose in disgust, picking up the phone to call the janitor. I realised when it was in my hand that there was still someone on the other end, so I answered hurriedly.  
  
"Helen, McArthur has been asking for you all day. Can you come down sometime soon?"  
  
"Sure. Thanks Mike."  
  
"He doesn't look anything like a criminal. He looks a little…geeky."  
  
I smiled sadly, "Yeah. I'll see you soon."  
  
The janitor assured me that he had heard about my brush with nature and had been chasing white mice all over the building. He said that he would dispose of the lobster.  
  
"How long has it been dead?" He asked me eagerly. I could almost see him licking his lips.  
  
"I don't know. It was still alive at ten this morning."  
  
"Oh. My wife will probably make me throw it out then. But I'll take it home in case."  
  
I closed the door on the smell and death and made my way to the police station where Tom was being held.  
  
"Hi." I felt unsure about his perception of me.  
  
His face broke out into a smile that was part ashamed and part relief, "Helen."  
  
This made me more confident and I indicated to the surroundings, "Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
"As a criminal to DA or as Helen to Tom?"  
  
"Which would you rather?"  
  
"I would rather talk to you, Helen."  
  
"Well then talk," I sat down and waited for him to begin.  
  
"How much did you know about this before we met?"  
  
"Nothing," I answered honestly. "But I was prosecuting a man who gave us your name, the day after our first date."  
  
"Why did you keep seeing me if you thought I was a criminal?"  
  
"Aren't you?"  
  
"Not necessarily."  
  
"The police told me to keep seeing you. I must admit - it sickened me to continue to do so."  
  
"Does it sicken you now?" He asked softly. I could see tears in his eyes and felt my own well up.  
  
"No." I whispered, hating myself for feeling this way towards him, but wishing that the circumstances had been different.  
  
"If I go to jail, would you visit me?"  
  
"I…I don't know, Tom."  
  
"I understand. You're a DA, it would ruin your reputation as a crime hater." He smiled ruefully, making my heart flutter.  
  
"Thanks, Helen. I had a good time on our few dates. You're an amazing woman. Somebody's going to be very lucky." He stood and tapped on the door. The guard stepped in and led him away, while I continued to sit, with my head in my hands. I had completely lost my ability to evaluate people's worth. I used to simply judge the by the crimes they committed, but I found now that it was impossible to think like that. A heart surgeon wasn't necessarily a "better" person than a thief - it all depended on the circumstances. I left the jail and went straight to bed when I got home, ignoring Ellenor's teasing questions about sleeping with a person on the second date.  
  
"Bobby and Lindsay come back tomorrow," she reminded me.  
  
"I know."  
  
"Helen? Are you okay?" She called when I walked straight past her.  
  
"I'm FINE!" I called back angrily.  
  
"Yeah right." I heard her mutter.  
  
* * *  
  
The phone cut through my deep sleep later that night and I picked it up - still half asleep.  
  
"I confessed," the husky voice said sadly. "I confessed for you, Helen."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I confessed. I'm so sorry, Helen." The line went dead and I felt the remainder of my world crash down. I suddenly knew deep in my heart that I was all alone.  
  
I woke early the next morning and called my boss,  
  
"I'm really feeling run down. I need some time to think; to relax."  
  
"Helen, you have never asked me for a holiday. Never."  
  
"Does that mean I can take one?"  
  
"I think, under the circumstances, we can give you a month off."  
  
"Two?"  
  
"Two months!? You'll go crazy!"  
  
"Please."  
  
"Call me after a month and we'll re-evaluate the situation then. I think I'm going soft in my old age - don't tell the others."  
  
"Thanks Scott. I mean it."  
  
"Have a good time Helen."  
  
As I entered the airport the large screens screamed their information at me and I got lost in the destinations and departures. I saw that there was a flight to Switzerland leaving in 2 hours - I had always wanted to go to Switzerland. I approached the nearest counter and with a resolve I hadn't felt in a long time, asked for a ticket to Zurich. She took my suitcase and smiled falsely, telling me to have a good trip. I looked at my watch, realising that the flight from Miami was landing. I rushed to the arrival gate and met the couple as they exited the plane, looking blissful and sunburned.  
  
"How was the Caribbean?" I cried. My voice was flustered and drew the attention of other passengers, who were equally as sunburned.  
  
"Incredible. I could have stayed forever!" Lindsay gushed.  
  
I noticed that Bobby's arm was wrapped protectively around her shoulders as if their week away had strengthened their already strong bond. Lindsay noticed my small carry-on bag and looked at me suspiciously, "Are you planning something?"  
  
"Kind of…I leave for Switzerland in two hours."  
  
"Switzerland!?"  
  
"Lindsay, shut up for just one second! Please."  
  
She assented with a nod of her head."  
  
"Ellenor can fill in the gaps but…remember that guy that I went on the blind date with?"  
  
"The computer nerd?" Lindsay laughed. Bobby shifted impatiently then mumbled something about luggage, leaving us to talk.  
  
I sighed, "Yes. Well let's just say that computers weren't his specialty. He was involved in some armed robberies I got involved personally and professionally and I need to get away."  
  
"You're not the type to run away, Helen. Something else must have happened."  
  
"I feel like I've lost the ability to judge characters. Obviously my first impression with Tom was way off, but I can still see his smile and it gets to me. I keep wondering "what if?'. You'll hear all about it when you get back to the office, so I won't bore you with the details. Please just accept that I need to get away from all this, I need to re-learn why I want to do this job - I've lost the drive and I really want to get it back."  
  
"But by yourself? Are you sure you'll be okay?"  
  
"I'm a big girl Lindsay, I need to do this by myself," I assured her with false confidence.  
  
"Okay. Call me when you get there." She hugged me tightly and I felt at that moment that what I was doing was right. It was time I had learned the value and importance of being myself, and the quality of coping with being alone. For too long I had relied on others to pull me out of hard times. Lindsay and Bobby waited until I boarded the plane and I glimpsed them grinning broadly at me as I turned to wave goodbye. I took my seat and found myself seated next to a sexy, young man, dressed smartly in a business suit. He smiled seductively at me and held out his hand, "Hi, I'm Dean." I took his hand and received a firm handshake, at this I returned the smile and replied, "Helen."  
  
"So what has brought you to my side, on a plane to Zurich, Helen?"  
  
I smiled thoughtfully and after some time, replied, "Love…and freedom." He smiled hopefully. I ignored him and opened my magazine – I sensed his disappointment and smiled to myself, suddenly the importance of this trip became clear to me and I settled in for my journey.  
  
********************************* 


End file.
